Musings of an Ex-Templar
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Companion Prompt: Going Home Again: Your chosen NPC/Companion reacts to the events that are taking place in the Warden's home. For Dwarf, Mage, and CIty elf this pertains to the events in Broken Circle, Orzammar, and the Alienage in Denerim.


Alistair watched Gwyneth as Carroll, the lyrium-daft sod, rowed them back across Lake Calenhad. She had withdrawn into herself, not hearing Leliana speaking to the new mage, Wynne. Hero had managed to get a modicum of attention, one slim hand curling around the nub of an ear and rubbing while he lolled out his tongue and panted. Alistair's own attempts to connect with her and make sure she was okay weren't getting through.

 _Say something clever, make her laugh, you idiot._

Looking at her again, he didn't think she'd appreciate his odd sense of humor at the moment. He could only imagine what she was going through. All of his training to become a Templar still hadn't prepared him for… that. Alistair felt a shudder wrack his body, remembering being in the thrall of the Sloth demon, the sad, resigned look on Gwyn's face when she confronted the demonic Goldanna to reveal its true nature. She had wanted for him to have the happy family. He wondered what she had seen. How had Gwyn figured out they were trapped in a nightmarish construct Sloth had created in the Fade?

When he had asked in the Tower, she had only turned those big owl-eyes of hers to him and whispered that they needed to get moving, the other mages were depending on them.

 _Maker, most of her friends died or became abominations._

The Tower had been a horror for him, a non-mage outsider. It must have been worse than Redcliffe had been for him. The people he cared about were still alive. One of her friends, that mage named Solona, was alive, one named Anders was missing, and the rest were unaccounted for or verifiably dead. Then, there'd been Cullen.

Alistair vaguely remembered Cullen from the monastery. Although he himself was older, Cullen had advanced through the training ranks far faster because he'd actually _wanted_ to be there. Cullen also wasn't being reprimanded for pulling pranks and being bored all the time. Alistair did recall talking to him briefly before the outing where he'd decided he was better off not leading after getting his squad lost and losing his pants. He'd asked Cullen what he thought of Templars being jailers for mages, and the other teenager had looked at him in horror.

" _Templars aren't meant to be jailers. Mages can't help that they were born mages. We're meant to protect them while they learn, and save them from themselves if they fall to temptation."_

Oh, how Cullen's tune had changed.

" _And to think.., I once thought we were too hard on you."_

When Cullen had said that, Gwyn's wide eyes had gone even bigger, and she'd reared back as if she'd been slapped, and gone pale. Alistair had heard rumors of what Templars could get away with, even in the good Circles. Random beatings, assaults, false accusations of blood magic. What had Gwyn been through at Kinloch? He had tried to talk to her, reassure her, but she'd shouldered him off.

" _We need to get going. If Irving is dead… we'll have no choice. I won't be able to stop the Knight-Commander from killing everyone." Gwyn's eyes unfocused, and she touched the ribbon one of the surviving apprentices, a little girl who wasn't yet five if she was a day, had solemnly tied around her wrist for good luck. "I can't let that happen."_

He knew what she meant. Alistair had seen the bodies of the mages who hadn't survived Uldred's bloody uprising. The vast majority of them hadn't been turned, and hadn't been slain by the Templars they were locked in with. No, their bodies were marked with long gashes from abomination claws. The mages had died fighting to defend their home and friends against the blood mage coup. He had been sick to his stomach in the apprentice's quarters, seeing the bodies of children who were far too young had met their end far too early fighting the monsters of their worst nightmares. Leliana had ended up excusing herself to vomit in a corner, the horrific reality of what the mages had faced without any support from the Templars shaking her to her core.

The boat bumped up against the dock, and Hero leaped out first, claws scrabbling on the wood planks as he greeted solid ground once again. Alistair clambered out, not the easiest thing to do in plate, and then turned back to help Wynne out. She smiled and patted his cheek after she gained her footing on the dock. He flushed, ducking his head and then reaching down for Leliana. Gwyn was still closed off when he helped her onto the dock.

"Thank you."

It was the first she had spoken since Kinloch's doors had rumbled closed behind them. "You're welcome, Gwyn."

She nodded, eyes focused on the dock, and gestured for all of them to follow her to the Spoiled Princess. The innkeep remembered them, offered rooms for half the normal fee, and sent Felsi to fill the baths in each room. Alistair thunked down at one of the tables, just staring at the ale the innkeep had shoved into his hands. Now he understood why Templars would take lyrium until the haze blocked everything but the immediate few hours from their memory. He would give anything to remove the memories of too-small corpses from his mind, the sickly sour-sweet odor of abominations, and Gwyn's face when she'd turned to him after they were out of Cullen's earshot and said, "If I… give in, please, don't hesitate to end it. I don't want to hurt anyone like… this. Of course, I'm just another mage, so I guess to an ex-Templar, I'm expendable."

" _You're more than that."_

" _Me, or mages in general?"_

" _Both."_

Gwyn had scoffed, and then swallowed, steeling herself to enter the Harrowing chamber. Alistair slammed the whole tankard of ale in one gulp. Damn the Order.


End file.
